resurrection

it’s never too late
to rock your own cradle
to pace the floor singing
with you in your arms
to rub and pat the lonely back
that lingers at the back of you
and witness as you rack
with deep and un-cried tears
your displaced mother napping
has awakened from her couch
and stretching she has risen
to sing awake the lonely house
to serve for you the dinner
at the table long awaited
to tuck in your own napkin
and calm your raging fear
to run a mother's fingers
through your long and graying hair
and listen to the nightmares
for so long gone untold
to see you and to see you
to love you and to hold you
to clean your house with laughter
and welcome your heart home


poem and photo by lucy meskill